Paint Me -- FrostIron
by Batsutousai
Summary: Loki has to discover other ways to amuse himself when he's trapped on Midgard without magic.


**Title:** _Paint Me ~ FrostIron_  
**Fandom:** Marvel (movie 'verse)  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** Loki/Tony Stark  
**Warnings:** mentions of past captivity and torture, feels, Loki's a bit of a shit, unbeta'd  
**Summary:** Loki has to discover other ways to amuse himself when he's trapped on Midgard without magic.  
**Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** From a list of prompts on tumblr as a response to a prompt given to me by an anonymous commenter. The prompt was **paint me frostiron?**

-0-

As Loki's punishment for his transgressions, he'd been stripped of his magic, then given to SHIELD and the Avengers to do with as they saw fit, so long as he remained alive. He'd been eventually put to work cleaning up the city, his superior strength allowing him to move rubble that the mortals would have required a team or machine to manage. Nights were spent holed up in the cell-like room he'd been assigned to at Stark's mansion home on the outskirts of the city.

It was a slow, tedious life, and Loki did not do well with boredom. But he kept on, kept his head down and snarled curses under his breath at his jailers.

And, eventually, the Avengers came to trust him a bit. As the city began to look almost normal again, Loki found his room door was more often left unlocked. The first time he ventured out, he found the group of mortals and Thor watching some idiotic film, lights down low and containers of puffed food set between them. He explored a bit more of the surrounding area, but eventually came back to the room where the others sat, laughing over something happening on the screen. Loki leaned against the doorway and settled in to watch, just bored enough to give it a chance.

The film wasn't too bad, but he left before the credits were done and anyone saw him. It was a pattern he continued for almost two weeks before Stark, without looking away from the screen, called back, "You _can_ sit down, you know."

None of them appeared surprised by his presence, so Loki slunk further into the room and curled up in a chair held apart from where the Avengers were lounging on couches and or the floor.

The next evening, Loki found a container of the puffed food in that chair, and he snacked on it while watching things explode.

As the last of the repairs were finished in the city, the Avengers and Loki all found themselves in the mansion more often than not. Loki avoided Banner and Thor, and only approached Romanoff when there was someone other than those two or Barton present, but he did begin spending more time around the mortals, joining them for meals or letting himself get talked into sparring matches in the gym. Stark and Rogers were the only two he really cared to interact with outside a group setting, however.

Stark's mind was terrifyingly brilliant in ways that left even Loki intrigued, and he made the mistake of flirting with Loki one afternoon over the broken microwave he was fixing. Loki had flirted back and the mortal had looked surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed and his lips turned with a smile so full of danger, that Loki wasn't sure if he was more concerned, or turned on. Within two weeks, they were sleeping together, and most of Loki's meagre belongings had migrated from his room to Stark's.

Rogers had seemed too much a good man for Loki's interest, so he'd begun their dealings by seeing how quickly he could get Rogers to storm off with a blush or in anger. But as Rogers became used to him – or someone gave him pointers about managing Loki – the Trickster discovered more of him. Such as his hobby of capturing object in a two dimensional form on paper, similar to Stark's three dimensional figures made of light, or how Loki had formed objects and people from whatever material was at hand.

Stark's constructs of light were more like Loki's old skills, but Roger's drawing kept him busy for far longer, and it seemed to have a calming effect on him. One afternoon, while the Avengers were all out dealing with some incursion or another, and Loki had been locked in his old room on Fury's orders, he found some paper and a pencil and began sketching an image of himself taking out Fury's other eye. (Rogers wasn't so amused when he saw it, but Stark chortled and tacked it to the wall in his workshop.)

Loki sort of took up sketching without thinking about it, and it was rare to find him without the sketchbook Rogers had gifted him nearby. He shared a number of them, enjoying the echoes of laughter Stark and Thor would let out, or the flicker of smiles Romanoff, Barton, and Banner couldn't quite suppress. Rogers' constant, 'That's really quite impressive, Loki' comments when he happened to come across one of the few pictures that didn't make him grimace in bad humour.

It had surprised Loki to discover, while flipping back through his sketchbook one afternoon, that he did more sketches of Stark than anything else. In fact, Stark was the only human subject that appeared when he wasn't making fun or something or someone. There was a series of sketches of the mortal sleeping, their sheets pooled artfully around him. In one of the series, he was reaching for Loki's empty side of the bed, eyes still closed and mouth twisted with a half-frown, half-pout.

And just now – Loki flipped back to the sketch he'd just finished – he'd sketched Stark as he was, dozing against the arm of the couch, legs tangled up with Loki's on the cushion between them.

"Oh," he whispered, his heart contracting. Well. It was hardly the first time he'd felt something beyond surface attraction for someone, but he wasn't usually so obvious about it.

"Lo?" Stark mumbled, one eye peeking open. " 'S wrong?"

Loki brushed his fingers against the granite lines of their entwined legs on the paper in front of him. "I have become soft," he said back, quiet and a little helpless.

Stark rubbed Loki's outer thigh with the foot resting there. "Hm." He opened his other eye and cocked his head to one side. "So, if you came across Nick in some dark alley and you had your magic back...?"

"I would rip out his heart and keep him alive long enough to see me _eat_ it," Loki snarled, because he really did despise Fury, though he was aware that the rest of the Avengers at least tolerated the director and wouldn't want to see him harmed. But, then, they hadn't been held in an electric cage for a week without food or water because Thor had to return to Asgard shortly after dropping Loki off, and Fury refused to trust the Trickster if he wasn't under the director's nose. Preferably in pain.

Stark smiled and reached down into his lap to dig his thumbs into the sole of the foot he found there, smile widening as Loki let out a pleased groan. "See. That's my asshole lover."

Loki grunted and set his sketchbook and pencil on the floor before pulling his foot away and manoeuvring himself so he could lean over the mortal, noses brushing and legs still tangling together. "Fury is a different matter; you make me soft."

Stark's eyes glinted and one of his hands pressed hard and unyielding to the front of Loki's trousers. "I can fix that."

"Incorrigible," Loki snarled, biting at the mortal's bottom lip and revelling in the slightly pained gasp it earned.

"Hey, it takes two to tango," Stark replied, kneading at Loki's cock through his trousers, lips curling with a smirk as the Trickster pushed into his hand half unconsciously.

"Oh my _God_," Barton called from the doorway. "Didn't we _just_ make a rule about sex in the common areas?"

"It wasn't common before you stepped in," Loki called back, and Stark snickered, his hand dropping away from Loki.

"Alright, Clint. We're stopping," Stark said, amusement loud in his voice. "You can stop aiming your spoon catapult."

A couple round pieces of cereal still hit the back of Loki's head and he turned to snarl at the archer, but Barton had already vacated, his laughter echoing from out in the hallway.

Stark breathed a laugh as he popped one of the pieces into his mouth. "I love you too, you know," he commented, impossibly casual.

Loki blinked, thrown for a moment, then rallied himself to say, "Of course you do. I am a _god_."

"Mmm. I know." The hand returned to the front of Loki's trousers again. "You should sketch my cock, you know. Steve would _love_ it."

"I'll sketch you masturbating for me," Loki murmured against the mortal's lips, then proceeded to swallow his moan.

"Bedroom," Stark gasped.

"Not out here?"

"_Now_ who's incorrigible?"

Loki chuckled and pulled away to collect his sketchbook and pencil, then stumbled with Stark to the man's room.

And if they left a couple articles of clothing in the hallway en route, well. At least the other Avengers couldn't complain about them having sex on the couch.

(And Rogers' blush at the sketch of Stark masturbating was a true work of art.)

..


End file.
